Discovering ‘Literary Starbucks’…

Recently, I came across a blog that made me laugh out loud – the Tumblr site, known as ‘Literary Starbucks’, basically imagines the literary greats coming in to order a coffee.

Some of the entries are odd, sad, or downright laughable, but all act as a sort of love letter to the author/theorist/other famous person of choice.

I’ve added a few of my favourites below.

Why not add one of your own in the comments section? I’d love to hear from you!

Foucault

Michel Foucault goes up to the counter and orders an iced coffee. Is his choice a product of his past or his present? Aren’t we all just at the whim of the power structures that control our society? Should we abandon this Starbucks and take control of our own beverages? What do we know about coffee? What do any of us know about anything? The barista, not surprisingly, quits her job.

Tolstoy

Tolstoy stumbles up to the counter, clutching a ragged, grey blanket around his shoulders. “Is it cold in here?” he stammers. “I feel like it’s cold in here.” The barista, too, is shivering. He offers Tolstoy a small cup of hot coffee. Snow drifts into the shop from the street. The barista nestles against the counter to conserve warmth. Tolstoy decides that the only way to survive is to leave the Starbucks and the barista behind. He wanders for what seems like an eternity, but he is still no closer to the door. The barista calls out to him. Tolstoy fights his way through the snow back to his barista, and they huddle together as they succumb to hypothermia.

Dr. Seuss

Dr. Seuss cheerfully goes up to the counter.
He orders a frosty fluff iced tea flan flouter.
He stays very still
His drink remains chilled
He waits (very patient) for his cup to be filled.
He calls to the shop, “I speak for the teas, for the teas have no tongues.
“And I’m asking you, sir, at the top of my lungs,
“Why is my cup taking so long to fill?
“I’ve been standing here, waiting, with my five-dollar bill.”
And finally, after a long, quiet pause,
He lets out a series of hearty guffaws.
“I’m sorry, good sir,”
He cries out with a smile,
“It’s totally fine my drink’s taking a while.
“I’ll stand here and read, wearing nothing but tweed,
“And I know that my drink will be done with great speed.”
He stands and he waits,
And he waits,
And he waits,
And finally, now it’s a quarter to eight,
He hears the barista call out, “Theodore!”
Dr. Seuss stands up and goes for the door.
The barista calls out, “Good sir, here’s your drink!”
Dr. Seuss turns around and tries hard to think.
“I’m so sorry again,” he says with a smile,
“It’s just I’d forgotten my surname was Geisel.”

Achilles

Achilles goes up to the counter, oozing confidence. He orders two venti caramel macchiatos. “That’s a lot of coffee,” says the barista. “Are you sure you can handle it?” “Of course!” cries Achilles. “I’m practically immortal!” He gets the drinks and begins to walk out of the store. He trips over the threshold, and a little bit of the scalding hot coffee spills down the back of his leg. He dies immediately.

Dahl

Roald Dahl goes up to the counter and orders a grande hot chocolate and a tall peach green tea. He offers the foxy barista a piece of gum. She takes it and promptly turns into a blueberry. He leaves the shop and walks down the street with his extraordinarily tall companion.

Miller

Arthur Miller goes up to the counter and orders a venti coffee black, no cream or sugar. He sits down in the corner and drinks it slowly. By the time he’s finished, he has failed as a husband, a father, a man, and an American.

Hamlet

Hamlet goes up to the counter and can’t decide what to order.

Wordsworth

Wordsworth goes up to the counter and orders a smoothie. It reminds him of a lake he visited once as a child. Then again, so do most things.

Austen

Austen goes up to the counter and orders a cinnamon spice latte. The barista is a bore. The man behind her in line orders exactly what she orders; he too is a bore. He is handsome in the conventional sense, but there is no chance they could ever be married.

Camus goes into the Starbucks to escape the sun’s merciless glare in the streets, where no shadow offers a cool respite. He walks up to the counter and suddenly realizes that he can order a caramel cappuccino or an ordinary espresso, and it will all come to the same thing. He takes his drink to a small table in the corner, and basks in the benign indifference of the universe.

I’ve just spent ages just reading through this blog, absolutely love it! Thank you for bringing it to my attention! I love the Dr. Seuss one but also love: “George Orwell goes up to the counter, looks around suspiciously, and leaves. He only drinks coffee from independent shops.”

Snickering, Poe goes up to the counter and asks the barista, “Will you ever more offer the Ravenberry scones?” The barista doesn’t follow. Poe over-articulates his carefully but awkwardly worded question. The barista still doesn’t get it. Poe leaves, a morose figure.

Poe goes up to the counter and finds the barista has been murdered. Though it doesn’t take him long to solve the crime, he finds he’ll have to get his coffee to go. This makes him a bit crazy.